Voyage to the City of the Dead

by Alan Dean Foster

  "I know that," Lyra agreed. "It's not that. I just don't want to harm any natives. You know what a resident commis­sioner would have to say about that."

  "There's no resident commissioner on Tslamaina. Not advanced enough yet. No one's going to know anything, and even if we were found out we'd just tell them that we had to defend ourselves, which is likely to be the truth."

  Lyra turned her attention to Homat. "What happens once we're safely past Changrit? What about the next town? Could it be in alliance with Po Rabi too?"

  Homat spoke with conviction. "No. Changrit is the only far north city allied with Po Rabi. Beyond Changrit much is unknown and all are independent of the city‑states that line the Groalamasan. And Changrit was chosen because it alone can muster enough strength for such an attack."

  "Everything you've told us makes sense," she murmured. "It's what you haven't told us that worries me."

  "I do not understand your words, de‑Lyra."

  "Why are you so eager to betray your own city?"

  "I have told you that I have come to like you, and that you have given me a sense of self‑importance and true worth that I have never felt before."

  "That's not good enough." For emphasis she added a powerful Mai gesture of disbelief. "You could have kept silent and fulfilled the dictates of your masters. If we had succumbed to this trap you would have enjoyed much honor in Po Rabi, and if we had escaped you would still be safe. Why risk the one by throwing in so openly with us when you'd have been safe both ways by keeping quiet? I'm glad that you `like' us, but I've studied Mai society for too many months now to believe that you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart."

  Homat looked uncertain, turned lo Etienne for guidance.

  "You'd better tell us the truth, Homat."

  "Don't you believe me, de‑Etienne?"

  "Yes, I do, but my wife's a born skeptic. Unlike intelligent beings, rocks and minerals aren't intentionally deceptive. You're going to have to convince her to convince me."

  Homat nodded. When he spoke again much of the ner­vousness and all of the soft deference had vanished from his voice.

  "I told the truth about coming to like you, and about not wishing to be a party to such a vile deception. But de‑Lyra suspects me rightly. I have another reason for confessing this now.

  "It is true I would risk nothing by keeping my silence, but also would I gain. nothing. Po Rabi is my home, but I have traveled widely and have come to think of the world as my home. There are many great city‑states where one may make a fine life In Po Rabi I have little chance to rise above my station. True, if the attack on your spirit boat were to succeed I would return home to a fine reward, but in you off‑wonders I see the chance to do much better. With the knowledge I can gain from you I can make myself valuable beyond mere `rewards.' Thus far only Losithi and Po Rabi have dealt with your hard‑shelled friends. Suphum would welcome my knowledge and make me a member of their Zanur, as would Tolm and many others. I could not hope to rise so high in Po Rabi on the results of my labors as an assassin.

  "I have provided you with information which may save your lives as well as your expedition. In return for this information and for my loyalty, I expect suitable recompense."

  Lyra looked satisfied. "!Vow I believe you, Homat." She added to Etienne in terranglo. "Typical power‑wealth decision. Very Mai. The fact that we're not of his race doesn't enter into the equation. Business takes precedence over vague feelings of loyalty to home and kind." She switched back to her very fluent Mai.

  "You are a more complex person than you've led us to believe, Homat. You're a very effective deceiver." This last was, in Mai, a compliment, and Homat looked quite pleased with himself.

  "All of us carry deceptions. They are worth little. Truth is all that can be sold. I am only a simple one seeking to lift himself from the depths in which he was born."

  "Having deceived us this long, how can we be certain you won't try to strike your own bargain with some village Moyt?"

  "If you do not return safely to your Steamer Station, I gain nothing from helping you now. I do not wish to take the spirit boat. I believe I have more to gain by helping you."

  "A straightforward enough commercial decision, Etienne‑devoid of sentimentality. I'd rather rely on that than on his fondness for us. Having made his confession and his choice, it's now in his best interests to see to our con­tinued health and safety."

  "Delightful so," Homat agreed. "Then you believe me about Irquit and the attack?"

  "We'll find out for certain tomorrow," Etienne told him. He turned his attention to the telescope. "Now if you don't mind, Homat, I still have some observations of the sky I want to make and Lyra needs her beauty sleep."

  Homat gaped at him. "But you are to be attacked! You must make preparations to defend yourselves."

  "Maybe we won't have to fight, Homat."

  "We'd better not," Lyra murmured uneasily. "Self ­defense or no, if word ever got back to our sponsors that we'd engaged in a running battle with Class Four‑B natives we'd never get another grant in our lives."

  "Don't be so damned concerned for the welfare of the charming, considerate locals. What are you worried about? Is Homat going to appear before the Research Advisory Board to announce that we knew about the attack in ad­vance?" After months of fighting with his wife, Etienne was more than ready to light something else, and to hell with the regulations.

  Besides, Po Rabi's deception grated on him. He remem­bered the ambassador's politeness, the warm feelings of contentment and achievement they'd felt just before setting out Upriver. If Homat's confession proved true, that meant all those kind words of help and assistance and talk of mutual sharing of knowledge was so much dung.

  Maybe Changrit was the last city in league with Po Rabi, and maybe it wasn't. It wouldn't hurt to send a lesson not only to the Zanur of Po Rabi but to any other Mai who coveted the spirit boat, that the peaceful human visitors weren't to be trifled with. Yes, they all but owed it to the Mai to show what scholars could do when aroused. In so doing they might quickly discourage all future such assaults, thereby saving lives.

  "It still bothers me to have to fight," Lyra said softly.

  "I understand." He was quite willing to be understanding now that he'd matte up his mind how to handle the Changritites. "But if it comes to that, it's self‑defense. Anyway, by fighting we're only adhering to local custom. Remember how the rest of the fishing fleet cheered us on our way? Maybe some timorous board member would disapprove, but not the rest of the Mai."

  She spoke in terranglo again while Homat looked on blankly, desperately wishing he could comprehend the alien babble.

  "We could just use repellers."

  "Dangerous if they managed to get a net or two on us. You know how unstable the boat is on repellers. That's a last resort. Besides, if we don't invite some kind of reaction, we'll only have Homat's word about Irquit. What if she's no assassin, merely a guide? What if their orders are only to stand aside and let the Changritites do all the dirty work? Maybe he's just trying to shut her out of the bit of business he's working with us. By watching her reactions we'll have final proof of his words. If she doesn't make any threatening moves, once past Changrit we'll have a new problem to deal with."

  Lyra sighed, shook her head sadly. "This is going to com­plicate the hell out of my notes."

  "If that's ail we have to worry about as we pass Changrit," he countered, "we'll be well off. Besides, think of the potential opportunities for studying the behavior of the Mai in battle."

  She responded with a rude noise which even Homat could understand.

  The following night on the Skar was equally cloudless and clear. As the sun began to shrink behind the distant ramparts of the canyon wall, Etienne peered through the cockpit bub­ble at an anxious Irquit. He nodded to himself as he studied her expression. Point one to Homat.

  The guide was talking to Lyra, who stood watching the western shore.

  "We are almost all o
ut of meat, de‑Lyra. I thought we were to stop here at Changrit." She gestured with a six ­fingered hand toward the dots of light which marked the riverbank. "We will soon be past the harbor."

  "We're not stopping tonight, Irquit," Lyra replied. "We have ample supplies of our own foodstuffs down in the hold. Maybe we'll stop in a couple of days. It's such a beautiful night, Etienne thinks we should enjoy the weather. I agree."

  "But Changrit is such a wonderful place!" Irquit pro­tested. "There is so much to see, so much for you to put into your records, de‑Lyra."

  "Oh, that's okay. I'm sure we'll find other places to stop that are just as interesting. We can stop and study there."

  "None are so grand on this part of the Skar as is Changrit." Irquit was glancing nervously past Lyra, apparently studying the river ahead.

  "Something wrong?" Lyra asked innocently.

  "No, no. I only wanted so much for you to see so powerful and beautiful a city. I felt that..."

  Etienne tuned the pleading voice out and concentrated on the scanner by his right hand. He knew what Irquit was looking for, out there atop the dark water. The green screen was filled with bright shapes of many sizes strung out in three parallel lines across the Skar. It must have taken the Changritites weeks to gather the enormous flotilla.

  He lost speed as he studied the scanner, looking for the place where the boats were spread thinnest.

  There were more boats ahead than he'd expected, and the danger was greater. Some of his initial enthusiasm for a fight evaporated. The capture was no game to the local Mai, and despite superior technology there was something still to be said for commanding overwhelming numbers. He made certain the repellers were functioning, just in case they had to employ them.

  Pick your way through, he suddenly decided, and take care not to get entangled in those damn nets and heavy wooden floats. Above all, don't let any of the locals on board. Surely they wouldn't have any real difficulty breaking through.

  Irquit was failing at not looking Upriver. She knew about the ambush. That much of Homat's story was obviously accurate.

  "Please, de‑Lyra, it would be so much better to make port at Changrit tonight. I can shop very cheaply at first light and we can-"

  "Go astern, Irquit," Lyra ordered her sharply. "We're not tired or hungry, we don't need to stop for supplies, and we're going on tonight."

  The guide started to object again, then thought better of it and followed the rail sternward. Etienne wondered what she'd tell Homat, whom she still thought of as a partner in deception, and how well Homat would hide his true feelings.

  Then he made out a dim irregular shape off to port, through the transparency of the cockpit bubble, and he no longer could spare the time to worry about the Mai already on board. None of the four moons were aloft yet and the river ran clear and unslivered beneath the hydrofoil's keel.

  A half dozen tiny objects appeared suddenly on the scan­ner, heading for the hydrofoil. "Spears, Lyra!"

  She dropped to her belly on the foredeck, behind the metal dome over the heavy‑duty fishing equipment. A couple of sharp points whanged off the bubble and he flinched invol­untarily. They did no damage to the tough plastalloy.

  Large shapes hove into view, lying where the scanner had. predicted their presence. Etienne turned off the sensitive audio pickups. They weren't necessary. He could hear the shouting and excited hailing of the boat's crews quite clearly in the still night air.

  Arrows and warcries followed the first volley of spears, then something long and heavy flew over the bow and clung there as Etienne turned sharply to port to avoid a small fishing barge filled with gesticulating, wide‑eyed bowmen. Arrows splintered or glanced off the clear cockpit bubble, but the larger affront remained. It was a heavy fishing net attached to huge bolts which had evidently been fired by several catapults or large crossbows operating in unison. Several such nets, flung one atop the other, could seriously obscure his vision. He could still run on instruments, but not if the thick mesh was entangled in the engine nozzle.

  Putting the hydrofoil on autopilot and entering 'evasive orders, he took his pistol from its charging socket near the pilot wheel and headed for the stern. Lyra met him halfway through the cabin.

  "Who's driving?" she asked curtly.

  "Multiple K."

  "Not good enough. Too many boats." She eyed the weapon in his right hand. "I came down so I wouldn't have to do that."

  "It's to burn that net, not Irquit."

  "What net?"

  "You'll see when you take over." He pushed past her, slipping the safety off the asynaptic pistol.

  He was halfway to the foredeck when something buzzed him like an apoplectic wasp. The fast‑moving, elegantly agile hydrofoil made it difficult for the Mai marksmen to aim but occasionally an arrow or spear would spang against the hull or whistle past overhead. Despite their inaccuracy, the sheer volume of primitive projectiles made moving around out on deck dangerous.

  Dropping flat and utilizing the slight inward curve of the metal gunwale for protection, he crawled toward the bow. Once alongside the cockpit bubble he rose and carefully began burning away the net that covered the plastalloy.

  The bow section was aerodynamic so there were few pro­jections for the nets to catch onto, and he had half of the net cleared away before a sudden burning made him glance down at his left arm. A small stream of blood dripped from where a passing arrow had dug. Etienne made a mental note to ask Homat if the Upriver inhabitants ever used poisoned barbs in their fishing. He turned back to the work at hand.

  Lyra appeared to be fully occupied with the task of steer­ing them through their assailants while causing as little damage as possible. She was darting rapidly from side to side, working with unexpected animation. He frowned, leaned close to the bubble. Yes, she was very active, and so was the second figure she was grappling with.

  The hydrofoil lurched abruptly to starboard and nearly threw him overboard. Only his grasp on the remaining Mai net kept him from a fatal dunking. As he struggled to his feet he identified the second figure in the cockpit: Irquit.

  But that was impossible. Because of Homat's warning they made doubly sure to lock the cabin door every time either of them entered or left. Irquit should have been stuck outside, on the stem deck where she slept with Homat.

  Lyra was heavier than the Mai and probably a good deal stronger, but if Homat was to be believed Irquit was a trained killer. Lyra's experience ran to more genteel pursuits. From what he could see, his wife was having a hard time fending off a wicked‑looking blade. He shouted at her, aware as he did so how useless his words were.

  Without Lyra at the instruments and with the autopilot turned off, the hydrofoil was beginning to slow. That was a safety override, designed to keep a boat with a disabled crew from running into the shore. As the whine of the jet faded, Etienne saw shapes begin to close in on them. They'd run past most of the Changrit armada, but were still near enough to be overtaken by determined oarsmen. He could hear them chanting in the dark as they strained to overhaul the spirit boat.

  If they were allowed on board, asynapts wouldn't be enough to cope with the sheer weight of numbers. Ibis first thought was to get back inside. He could lock any boarders out, and with their primitive weapons they couldn't break in, but they could certainly disable the engine or clog the water scoops.

  Bowmen were close now and suddenly found themselves presented with a relatively stable target. They kept him pinned down by the fishing dome, unable to move through the shower of arrows.

  Suddenly he saw a third shape inside the cockpit. For a moment he despaired. If Homat had lied to them, if he'd been a willing ally of Irquit's and of the Zanur all along- ­he screamed Lyra's name.

  But if that were the case, then why the trembling expiation last night up on the telescope platform? As Etienne watched he saw Homat edge carefully around the pinwheeling com­batants, climb up into the pilot's seat, put both six‑fingered hands on the wheel and nudge the accelerator.
>
  Again he found himself thrown to the deck, only this time it was due to the hydrofoil's sudden leap forward. Shouts of dismay and anger reached him from the two fishing boats that were almost within boarding range. Two Mai actually made the jump and landed aboard.

  The asynapt flashed twice in the darkness. There was a brief bright blue flash where each charge struck flesh, the smell of ozone in the air, and a single splash as the first victim tumbled overboard. The second fell near Etienne's sweaty face, curved knife locked in a stilled grip.

  Etienne scrambled erect and ran to the nearest entryway. When Irquit saw the other human enter the cabin she broke free and rushed astern, trailing curses in her wake. He just missed her in the main corridor, collided with Lyra instead. It was a timely collision, since his impact knocked her aside and clear of the knife that whistled past them.

  He fired wildly and seared a section of ceiling, as a funny, high moan sounded from the direction of the cockpit. Homat fell away from the wheel as Lyra moved to help him.

  Another pair of fishing nets clung to the boat, and Etienne pushed a few tangles aside as he cautiously emerged on deck. Irquit was unarmed, however, except for her mouth. She snarled something that Etienne translated crudely as "Death to the Faceless One!" Whether the curse was aimed at Homat or himself he had no way of knowing and likely never would know, because their former guide and cook threw herself over the side and instantly vanished astern. No doubt her Changritite allies would fish her out of the river and send her on her way Downriver toward Po Rabi.

  Etienne was gratified that they'd put their trust in Homat. Certainly he had burned his bridges behind him. There was no way the Mai could ever show his face in Po Rabi again.